Spying on the Enemy
by Victoria Kathleen Wright
Summary: AU. Four agents of a secret U.S. government department do what they've been recruited to do while secrets are kept and revealed, hearts are given and broken, and battles are won and lost. In the meantime, the organization known only by its signature 'A' continues to threaten them and everything they know.


_**Aria**_

Aria tapped her knuckles against the wooden table and watched as glamorous black-and-white women laughed and smoked and gossiped on the restaurant's television, musing on how she, in all actuality, was just like those women: colorless and fake.

She had just settled into the melancholy and bored emptiness that was all too familiar at this point when a concerned lilting voice made its presence known.

"Aria? Aria, honey?"

Aria's eyes shot to the source of the voice, her beautiful mother who was sitting across her. "I'm fine, sorry, just zoned out for a second there."

Her eyes strayed to the pulled out chair and napkin next to her mother. "Zack's in the bathroom?"

Aria smiled when her mom blushed furiously and grinned shyly at the mention of her fiancé. It was wonderful to see her mom finally finding her own happiness for once, instead of striving to please everyone else. "Yeah."

Aria raised a perfectly threaded eyebrow. It wasn't like her mom to restrain from gushing all over her new lover. "Spill."

Her mom raised an identical eyebrow but held out for just a second before caving, her brown doe eyes widening a little and her face becoming a little more animated from her previously content expression. "I... found a ring in his bedside drawer."

Aria gasped and then bit her lip to keep from beaming inappropriately, considering that her mother looked more than a little worried about the prospect of being proposed to. "And how do you feel about that?"

Ella exhaled. "It's not about how I feel; it's about how this will affect you and Mike an-"

Aria cut her off. "No, Mom. That might matter, but first and foremost is how you feel about this." Aria looked at her mom meaningfully. "So how do you fell about this?"

Ella looked down at her linguini and then back up again. "I want to say yes. I really, really want to say yes."

"Then say yes." Aria advised simply.

Ella tilted her head to the right while looking at her daughter. "And you're fine with losing your beloved mom?"

Aria laughed. "I'm not losing you. I'm getting to see you be happy."

"Oh, sweetheart. You and your brother are all I need to be happy."

"Happier, then." Aria said, taking a sip of her white wine.

When she looked up, she saw that Ella was staring at her intensely. "What?"

Ella shook her head and then sighed. "I just feel like we're all drifting apart. Byron and Meredith and their family moved to Syracuse, your brother is busy with being a lacrosse coach, and you're off traveling the world for the next few months because of that journalist job of yours."

Aria stared at the still, translucent wine before answering. "Mom, I won't be gone for that long, and, honestly, I think we're all where we need to be right now. I guess we can bump up the reunion if you want."

"I guess I wish we just didn't need to have so-called 'reunions'." Ella murmured.

"I know I wouldn't want to go back to those days with all the cheating and lying and violence, but to each their own." Aria muttered. She regretted her comment instantly and looked up to see her mom staring off into space. "Sorry."

A few seconds later, Ella cleared her throat and looked back at Aria, a small smile on her lips. "No, you're right. I guess the grass is always greener on the other side."

"We're all at a great place right now, Mom. I just don't want to lose that." Aria tried to explain.

Ella reached across and placed a comforting hand on Aria's open palm. "And we won't, sweetheart."

Aria smiled softly and squeezed her mom's hand when she caught Zack wandering back to the table. "He's coming back," she whispered conspiratorially.

Ella jerked her hand back and straightened her back.

Aria chuckled before rising from the table to her terribly prodigious height of 5' 2". "I'll give you two your alone time."

She snickered internally at Ella's deer-in-the-headlights expression before walking over to the open bar. She'd just opened up her phone when she noted the song playing above her. "I love this!" She exclaimed.

"Me, too."

Aria whirled around to see an absolutely gorgeous man sporting a sweater vest, curly dark hair, and the bluest eyes she'd ever seen.

"B-26?"

* * *

_**Sean**_

Sean glared as his girlfriend of two years twirled around their small but comfortable apartment, packing everything she believed to be hers - which apparently included all of the jewelry he'd gifted her over the span of their relationship.

"Hanna, I don't understand why you need to this."

The blonde continued to ignore him, even as she whisked some silverware away from the countertop right next to him and packed it into an already overflowing neon pink bag.

"Hanna!"

Finally, Hanna huffed a few blond curls out of her hair and turned to face Sean, leaning towards him the way she did with the terrible posture that had always annoyed his mother and gesturing wildly to add emphasis to her words. "Sean, stop being un-supportive of my career."

Sean rolled his eyes, wishing his hair was longer so he could flip it for dramatic way the way she often did, irritated with her pulling that card out again. "Hanna, you can be an amazing and famous designer even if you just stay here and take a few trips from time to time the way you always do. Why do you need to move and put us at risk to do what you've already been doing?"

He flinched almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, knowing her reaction even before she physically displayed it. And sure enough, when he'd gathered up the courage to crack open one eye, Hanna's face had turned a shade of red resembling a fire hydrant and her blue eyes no longer reminded him of the sky but of stormy waves ready to crash down upon any surfer stupid enough to swim in their way.

"Put us at risk? At risk? Well, it's nice to know exactly what your priorities are, mister!"

"Look, Hanna," Sean started, finally pushing himself off the counter and towards his angry girlfriend. "I'm sorry, but is it really so bad to care about our relationship?"

Hanna's eyes narrowed. "Sean, you don't care about our relationship! You care about your ideal version of a relationship - where I stay docile and at home and we abstain."

Sean gasped audibly, unable to believe that she'd actually be willing to bring that up. "You said you didn't mind!"

"Yeah, because clearly the nightly lingerie and candles never gave you a hint, you moron!" Hanna retorted before turning back to her packing.

"Well, then! I suppose I don't even know you anymore! The sweet Hanna I fell for would have never thrown that in my face!" Sean shouted.

He was surprised when her shoulders slumped and she paused in her packing and brought up a hand to rub her eyes. They stood frozen like that for a moment, his hands reaching out towards her though her back was turned towards him.

"You're right." She whispered, uncharacteristically quiet and somber. "You don't."

And then she resumed packing, zipping up her bags, strapping on her heels, and walking across the room to their front door without looking at him once.

It took a few moments for Sean to realize she was leaving. "Wait, Hanna. Hanna! What do you mean?"

She finally turned once she was in the door frame, her sapphire eyes tinged with sadness and something else he couldn't quite recognize. "You're right. We don't know each other anymore. I guess I've known it for a while, but I've been putting it off. I'm gonna be gone for a year now, and I really don't want to keep either of us bound by promises to someone who we don't even know anymore. So we're done."

"Hanna..."

"Goodbye, Sean."

And then she was gone.

* * *

_**Wren**_

Wren plugged his earbuds in, perfectly content to listen to an a-capella version of "Eleanor Rigby" all morning long instead of pretend to pay attention to the god-awful rendition of The Taming of the Shrew that was taking place before his eyes.

Americans. They spoiled everything.

Looking around to check if the client was, in fact, still asleep and drooling (he was), Wren stood up, figuring he might as well take that walk he'd skipped this morning. After fixing his tie, checking his watch, and plugging in his earbuds in even harder just in case, he set off.

Central Park in the morning was absolutely, undeniably gorgeous.

The morning air carried the scent of dew, which Wren could identify as if dew had a scent. The sounds of bikers and pedestrians and rude New Yorkers in general (Wren had found that the average New Yorker was the rudest of the average regional Americans) seemed like a rather constant undercurrent of background music to his swift, narrow steps and the pumps of music flowing through his ears. Figuring he had another few minutes before he needed to start back, Wren deftly pulled out a cigarette and lighter. He lit the cigarette, which henceforth dangled from between his lips, and had just looked down to find a pocket to slip the lighter into when

BAM!

Wren and whoever the hell had slammed into him both went careening onto the concrete.

"Damn it," Wren muttered morosely, watching the wasted cigarette roll towards and deposit itself in the gutter.

"Why don't you watch where you're going?" An angry, husky, yet distinctly feminine voice broke through his brief mourning period.

"Pardon me, miss," Wren snapped, twisting his neck around to glare at his accuser, "but it takes two to..."

And then he trailed off, mesmerized with the absolutely stunning brunette who was currently on her ass desperately attempting to revive the cracked smartphone in her hands.

"Two to what, exactly?" She barked in that raspy voice that was suddenly filling his head, pushing the phone which she'd apparently worked wonders on aggressively into an overflowing handbag, furiously pulling back a few mahogany strands of her otherwise perfect hair back, and dusting off her charcoal pencil skirt. She was up on five-inch, jet black heels before he'd even stopped gaping at her.

Once her gaze traveled over to him, he abruptly closed his mouth and stumbled up, cheeks and ears burning. "Uh, nothing. My apologies. I should have been watching where I was going."

He turned to walk away, not even remotely done looking at her, talking to her, having her caramel-colored eyes, accusing or otherwise, on him, but knowing that he'd said his piece and staying would only render the situation even more awkward.

"Wait." His heart missed a beat, and he turned, mentally picturing her jumping into his arms and then berating himself for that image.

She stood there in the same spot, her eyes on his shoes and her fidgeting with her bag. "It was my fault, as well. I'm sorry."

"No problem." He managed. Was there a smile on his face? Most definitely. Was it too big? Most probably.

She smiled the most dazzling crooked smile he'd ever seen, and then walked past him. He could swear he had no control over his body at the moment when she passed by and his eyes closed contentedly all by themselves and he breathed deeply in her momentary presence.

He turned, watching the statuesque woman strut down the street and fish out her phone again, and leaned against the park's wall, not quite sure if he was going to collapse again or not.

And then, right before she crossed the street, she rotated her neck just a little bit, caught sight of his watching her, blushed the most captivating shade of magenta, and flipped back into position, her back clearly as straight as a rod even from where Wren was standing.

He grinned widely before realizing he had spent a considerably large and inappropriate amount of time away from the client, and then he raced down the sidewalk.

Even as he skidded into his chair next to the thankfully still-asleep client, he couldn't keep his mind from wandering back to the striking brunette.

Maybe Americans didn't spoil everything after all.

* * *

_**Emily**_

Emily raced through the building's halls as the fire alarm continued to blare. The groceries originally hanging from her arms had fallen earlier and were now lying and rolling in multiple hallways.

Finally, Emily skidded to a stop in front of Apartment 10A, where smoke was emitting from under the door. Hastily fishing out keys from a back pocket in her jeans, Emily had no time to listen to her judgmental neighbor, the elderly Mrs. McCullers, berate and question Emily about the apparent fire in her apartment.

Emily struggled and struggled but her impatience wasn't exactly helping the usually dexterous athlete unlock her door. Eventually, however, there was an almost imperceptible click and Emily allowed herself one sigh of relief before banging the barrier open.

"Maya? Maya!" Emily yelled as she stepped into the smoky apartment, coughing a little at the white smelly clouds that had filled up the small one-bedroom.

Emily took a few cautious steps more and then found herself in their living room, where she was met with a scene that she had already anticipated in some tiny, repressed part of her mind. Maya and three other people Emily had never seen before in her life were draped across the furniture in varying states of consciousness, their weed and joints strewn openly across the coffee table.

Emily took a deep, but not very calming, breath before hopefully checking behind herself to see if Mrs. McCullers had followed her in. Thankfully, she hadn't, saving Emily from yet another headache she really didn't need. Emily opened up all the windows and threw the used joints in the trash and the weed itself in the garbage disposal before collapsing in the bedroom, intending to send Maya the message that, when she woke up, she was to take care of her friends.

Before she even knew she was sleeping, Emily was shaken awake. She rubbed her eyes open and yawned before looking up to a very apologetic Maya.

Maya's gorgeous tan skin and raven hair had always captivated Emily, but, just right now, the whole image was ruined by Maya's glassy, unfocused, red-tinged eyes.

Emily rolled her eyes and turned over, not open to hearing Maya's excuses and not having the energy to battle out Maya's choices with her again.

"I'm sorry." Maya's soft dulcet tones reached Emily's ears, but Emily displayed no reaction.

"Em, I know I can't apologize enough, but-"

"Are you addicted?" Emily suddenly demanded.

Maya's forehead creased, her eyebrows arching up. "What? No."

"Then why can't you stop? You've promised me so many times, but you don't stop." Emily ranted, finally looking up at Maya.

Maya sighed, sitting down next to Emily and cupping her face.

Emily, however, pushed Maya's hands away. "Is it that you just won't stop? You don't care enough about us, or me, to?"

"Of course not, Emily. I don't want you to think that I don't love you with everything in me. I just... I don't know. I relapsed."

Maya brought her hands to Emily's face again, this time pushing her own ebony hair back. Emily didn't bother to resist.

"You know what? Whatever. I can't fight with you right now. But you know this can't last. It affects your judgment; it makes your head all foggy, and-" Emily spoke frantically.

"I know, I know," Maya hushed her gently.

Emily sighed, exhausted even though she'd just woken up, and sat up.

Maya curled her skinny arms around Emily's more muscled and toned ones, and they sat nose-to-nose, something Emily had never done before she'd met Maya.

There were a lot of things Emily had never done before she met Maya, but the only one she regretted was to have to look up rehabilitation centers and techniques.

One of the things Emily had done before she met Maya, however, was fall in love. She shouldn't be thinking about that right now, though (or ever), and so Emily pushed the old memories of her first true love out of her mind and concentrated on the one before her.

Maya leaned up and closed her eyes just before brushing Emily's lips with her own.

Emily's own rosy lips curved into a soft smile.

"Ready to go back to work tomorrow?"


End file.
